August Grab-Bag

 I am still processing last week's hike.

It is not often that I say something is a "life changing event"; that terminology often gets overused and when overused begins to sound either trite or breathless.  But something happened out there between the Saturday I stepped on the trail and the following Thursday when I stepped off it.

I say the hike, but it perhaps could simply be the hike as culmination.

As I closed out a journal on Saturday, I realized that this particular volume had encompassed the completion of my project, Hammerfall 2.0, my job search/interview process/hire, a trip to Greece, training with the head of my sword school, starting said new job, Nighean Bhan's engagement, moving things from the house at The Ranch, the leaving of Nighean Dhonn for college, and the Mt. Goddard hike (as well as two other shorter hikes).  It has been, I realized, a pretty packed four month period.  So perhaps in reality it was not the hike itself that caused the difference, but rather the hike as the summit building on every other one of those experiences.

I cannot tell you fully how, but I simply feel "different" than I did last week.  How different, I am not fully certain.

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I had an encounter with God yesterday morning.

There was a perceptible sense in the morning as I was home alone that someone was present and really wanted me to pray.  Fifteen different things leapt to my mind to do and I attempted to put it off for a while, but I finally simply prayed and waited.  

There were no revelations nor any sort of vision or voice.  Only the very distinct sense that God had been there.

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I am trying to take a bit more of an organized process to posting on the blog.

Although it likely will surprise no-one, there is really no master plan to all of this.  Sometimes I have days I do things - Thursdays for The Collapse, and often Sunday for God Thoughts, and earlier this year Wednesdays for Old English - but there is not really any kind of overall cognitive idea for all of this.  I just write.  Given that time is at a bit of a premium for the foreseeable future, 

So like everything else, I started a spreadsheet.

It is divided into different columns. Greece is there (So much Greece.  We likely will be there until Thanksgiving).  The Hike is there.  The Collapse is there as a general category.  Book reviews are there (I need to do this more as a practice).  God Thoughts are there.  And the "Other" category, which covers everything else.

Hopefully if nothing else, this will give me the ability to plan things for writing a bit more effectively.

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Leaving The Ranch gets harder and harder every time.

I have commented more than once to The Ravishing Mrs. TB that really, my social connections and life are there, some few states away, not here in New Home - beyond my Iaijutsu and the Rabbit Shelter there is little that I would miss about New Home.    There is something that simply speaks to me when I am at The Ranch, something that tells me that the rightness of being there.

I mentioned this again to The Ravishing Mrs. TB.  Her point - entirely fair and relevant - is that beyond just the fact of moving, it is likely that she would struggle to find a job as well paying and flexible as her current one.  Additionally, Nighean Bhan is currently living with us as she starts her graduate education (which will be about 5 semesters/two years); we pay in rent less than it would cost to pay for an apartment for her to live in.

My job has some ability to manage things remotely, although I would still need to be here periodically be in town.

Her suggestion - she has made it before - is to consider what it would look like I effectively relocated to The Ranch now and she followed at some later date.  There are a lot of steps that go into that, starting with "Is my sister okay with that?" and then "Is my work okay with that?" and then "When do I move, how much do I move, and what does that mean for finances, for my marriage, and for my life going forward?"  Also, of course, "When does The Ravishing Mrs. TB move?"

I do not have answers.  All I have is the deep and abiding sense that I need to be there, not here.

Grieving The Spirit

 "Beware if in personal testimony you have to hark back and say - 'Once, so many years ago, I was saved.'  If you are walking in the light there is no harking back, the past is transfused into the present wonder of communion with God.  If you get out of the light you become a sentimental Christian and live on memories, your testimony has a hard, metallic note.  Beware of trying to patch up a present refusal to walk in the light by recalling past experiences when you did walk in the light.  Whenever the Spirit checks, call a halt and get the thing right, or you will go on grieving Him without knowing it".

- Oswald Chambers, My Utmost For His Highest

2023 Main Hike: To Mount Goddard And Back

 This year's main hike was to Mount Goddard in King's Canyon in the Sierra Nevada Mountains

We went from here (main parking lot, see small square):

to here (Base of Mt. Goddard at Martha Lake):

and back.  Total mileage was right at 52 miles for 6 days (really, 4 full days and two partial days).

It was a very challenging trip physically (although interestingly, this is the least sore I have ended a hike in a long time).  I am (as usual) still processing things as there were some other challenges and thought provokers that I had not anticipated.

(I now have to figure out how to weave two travel scenarios in and out separately).

For now, I leave you with some additional photos from the hike:

Greece 2023: Three Views of Thessaloniki

In the past, I have not been a huge fan of taking videos of my trips.  No real particular reason why, I guess I am just not a video person.  As I have continued to travel more recently, I have come to value short videos:  they are able to give glimpse of places that can be reminders to me and seen by all without my lens interfering. 

The harbor of Thessaloniki and the Thermic Gulf:

View from The White Tower:

View from the Heptapyrgion:

The Collapse CXIV: Hard And Soft

14 June 20XX+1

My Dear Lucilius:

The rifle barrel is cold in my hand.

This rifle was my grandfather’s, a hunting arm that came down to me after his death over 40 years ago. My cousins, my uncle and I divided them up among ourselves, back in the days where firearm ownership and transfer was nothing more than an interaction between family and friends.

The caliber is an antique one, not common when I received the rifle and not more common in the years since. Yet it has served my purposes, a tool both to use when I had the need to practice and a gateway to a world before I was born, where men lived differently than they did even in my own life time.

I work my way down the barrel with my polishing cloth, then look to the stock.

The stock shows the age of the weapon more than the metal parts; the pits and scratches of the wood making this rifle more unique than even the individual number on it does. Like many things to me it tells me a story without revealing to me what the story was. It was a good story, to judge by its condition, speaking of adventures in the outdoors that were never spoken of in my hearing.

Ammunition for such rifles as this were always hard to come by; between building up a reserve and practice using more common calibers, it was never quite the problem it might have been. I carefully saved the casings, less from the fact that I could or would reload them as much as I might find someone to do so. I never really did, and so the casings have continued to follow me around as well, a potential use never exercised.

The casings, or at least some of them, went away last night.

It was almost an unspoken transaction between Young Xerxes and myself. He asked; I gave them to him. Where they are going or to whom I do not know, nor was the information offered to me. Nor a specific reason why.

The gun sits in my hands, glowing softly in the afternoon sunlight.

Never in all my years had I pictured that I would sit polishing this gun – not for practice, not even perhaps for hunting, but for some potentially grimmer purpose. One reads of such things of course: the sword or gun pulled down from the hearth at need, not having been called upon in half a lifetime for use. Considered at that time items of decoration or even memorabilia, they remained able to be recalled at need to their original purpose.

Later, Pompeia Paulina asks me why I seem uncharacteristically reserved. There is not really a reason I can give her, I reply. Just reminders that the world is sometimes not as we wish it to be.

She squeezes my hand. I squeeze back, involuntarily comparing the softness of her fingers with the cold and hard textures of earlier in the day.

Your Obedient Servant, Seneca

Greece 2023: Thessaloniki III - Church of St. Demetrius ( Άγιος Δημήτριος)

 St. Demetrius (Demetrius of Thessaloniki) was born sometime in the late 3rd Century A.D.  Of humble origins, according to the hagiographies in existence he rose to the level of Roman Proconsul before being executed by spears during the reign of the Emperor Galerius (he of the previous day's Arch and Rotunda) in 306 A.D.  A church was soon erected afterwards and was expanded in the mid-7th Century A.D. to more or less its current form.  Demetrius is the patron saint of Thessaloniki, being credited with saving the city from various invasions (as well as the patron saint of agriculture, peasants, and shepherds).  He known as "The Myrrh Gusher" as when relics were brought to the church for veneration, myrrh began to flow from them as proof they belonged to the saint. 

Much of the church was destroyed in the Great Fire of 1917 and it has taken decades to restore it.

The shrine of the relics of Demetrius.  Even when the church was converted to a mosque under the Ottoman's, the shrine remained open to Christians.

Off To College - Round III

 Today as you are reading this (well, really, today as this is being auto-published), Nighean Dhonn is leaving for college.

She is driving up with her sister Nighean Bhan.  The drive would make for a very solid one day drive; they are splitting it into two.  The Ravishing Mrs. TB is flying up to meet them there (and bringing even more stuff with her), where they will connect and then get Nighean Dhonn set up in her dorm room for the school year.  She and Nighean Bhan will fly back on Saturday (beating me to the airport returning from my trip by about 10 minutes), where we will all drive home together.

And just like that, everything changes.

It is turning out to be another milestone in a number of ways. Not only is Nighean Dhonn effectively moving on to the next phase of life (although New Home may still serve as "home", it will only really be for vacations and Summer), Nighean Bhan starts her Master's program the following Monday (Her words:  "It seems like it is going to be a lot").  And to be fair, even this hiking trip is sort of a holdover from before Hammerfall 2.0, plans made on a schedule that does not really exist anymore at this point, for a place (The Ranch) that is in a short term transition.

Nighean Dhonn is, as you can imagine, a little nervous (I am sure she will be fine).  She has a single dorm room, of which I had no idea such things existed - because if they had when I was in school, I would have completely gotten one.  She already has her classes for the semester, and at least one - the equivalent of "Latin 101" makes me very jealous indeed.

With Nighean Dhonn gone and Nighean Bhan  effectively in college all over again, it largely be down to The Ravishing Mrs. TB and myself.  Which, in itself is a bit of a change not only for the fact that it will largely be the two of us alone, but that it  be an odd schedule:  I with Iaijutsu class/work 5 nights a week, her with her travel group/friends two-three nights a week.  We have already had the experience of ships passing in the night; I am not sure how more or less pronounced that will become.

But that is the future.

Now, we get to celebrate as Nighean Dhonn adventures off to the next phase of her life, even if in the quiet moments we mourn the fact that another phase has come to a close.

It does make me wonder:  how can a thing simultaneously seem to have taken years and yet an instant?

Greece 2023: Thessaloniki II - Arch of Galerius, Tomb of Galerius, Heptapyrgion

During the period of the Roman Tetrarchy (285-324 A.D.) in which the Roman Empire was divided in rule between two Emperors and two caesars (emperors in reserve might not be a bad concept), Thessaloniki served as a capital for the province of Illyricum.  Galerius, one of the Tetrachs, eventually became Emperor (305 - 311 A.D.) but had previously served as caesar (293 - 304 A.D.).  At one point stationed in Thessaloniki, he had an Arch raised to commemorate his victory over the Persians in the battle of Salata in 298 A.D. Originally built as part of the palace complex of Galerius in the last 290's A.D. only a few pillars and the masonry portions of the Arch survive.

The Rotunda of Galerius (or The Rotunda of St. George) dates from the same period and is directly north of the arch.  Originally likely built as a mausoleum (similar to the tomb of Hadrian), it appears to never have been used for that purpose. It has instead been both a church and a mosque; the minaret seen in the picture is the last remaining minaret in Thessaloniki.  It dates as one of the earliest existing Christian church buildings.

As an item of interest, the brick walls are approximately 18 ft/6m thick.

The Heptapyrgion is a Byzantine/Ottoman Fortress (and then prison) built on the top of the acropolis of Thessaloniki with a commanding view of the town and the harbor.  From the top, one can follow the circuit of the walls down to the harbor (and The White Tower).  It was used as a prison up to 1989.

A plaque in the gate of the Heptapyrgion. Placed there in the 14th or 15th Century A.D. (if I recall correctly), it commemorates the repair of the gates by the mother of the local ruler.

An example of the city remaining city walls.  They just exist throughout the city.

No Room For The Son Of God

 "Am I continually saying with amazement to my common-sense life - why do you want me to turn off here?  Don't you know I am about my Father's business?  Whatever the circumstances may be, the Holy Innocent Eternal Child must be in contact with His Father.  Am I simple enough to identify myself with my Lord in this way?  Is He getting His wonderful way with me?  Is God realizing that His Son is formed in me, or have I carefully put Him on one side?  Oh, the clamor of these days!  Everyone is clamoring - for what?  For the Son of God to be put to death.  There is not room here for the Son of God just now, no room for quiet holy communion with The Father.  Is the Son of God praying in me or am I dictating to Him?  Is He ministering to me as He did in the days of His flesh?"

- Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest

Gone Hiking 2023: Main Hike

 Dear Friends,

As you are reading this, I am in a car on my way to the Main Hike.

If all goes well (at least in theory), we will be on the trail for total of 6 days (including two half days) covering somewhere around 50 miles, including a day ascending and descending a mountain which is not quite as high as Mt. Whitney was last year at 14,505 feet above sea level.

The hiking group we go with considers this their most challenging hike - The Whitney hike was both higher and farther, but this hike involves going up on a trail that they have discovered (e.g., no nicely maintained National or State park trail).

The Outdoorsman spoke with the hike director today.  I was a little concerned from the amount of snow I saw in some of their videos (given our experience in June).  Snow, he said, is not a concern - but get ready for plenty of water crossings and mosquitos.

Mosquitos can be managed.  Water crossings:  not a fan.

On the hike this year will be not only myself and The Outdoorsman, but his future son-in-law The Brit.  Given that at least three other people we know that were going had to drop out, I am not sure how big the team will be.  Regardless, it will be an adventure.

In my absence, I have left a series of posts as per usual. My responses will of course be delayed; likely we will not be in anything like InterWeb range until Thursday afternoon and if past performance is any indicator of the future, Friday and Saturday will be slow days.  

I will say - and this is really is a credit to all here - leaving the blog for a week at a time now feels a great deal like just leaving with the house unlocked and telling folks to take what they need:  I always return to a residence that is just as I left it.  As always, thanks for minding the rules and minding the store.

God willing and the creek does not rise (and that second point may be in doubt), I will see you all in a week or so.

Tales From Produce (A)Isle: The Locals

 When moves to any location for more than a short time, it is of great benefit to learn who the locals are.

The locals can take many forms:  The neighbors across the street.  The people that become regular as we shop at the same locations over an over.  The person walking their dog or running we see every morning and develop a nodding acquaintance with.  The service provider that becomes a regular.

On Produce (A)Isle, there are three kinds of locals.

The first are the Permanents.  These are small group - four at least, including my manager - that are full time employees on the (A)Isle.  They are guaranteed full time work (minimum of 34 hours a week) and generally open or work mid-day with perhaps a single closing shift ever week.

The second are the Part-Timers. I fall into this category and currently may be the only one, employees who work part-time but are 100% dedicated to produce.  Mostly we (I) fill evening and weekend shifts.  I have never met anyone in my status, but know that others are coming.

The third are the Floaters.  These are employees that are not specifically dedicated to single department but move from area to area:  checking, pharmacy, shopping, even produce.  There is a handful of these that work overlapping my hours, and over time a few of them have become effectively semi-permanent fixtures.

Produce (A)Isle is not merely named that because it consists of aisles.  In a very real way we are isolated from the rest of the store, even though there are no physical barriers.  Employees may come through do perform the in-store shopping function or (even less often) for their own shopping, but there is never really any relationship building.  If they cannot find something they ask, but scarcely will anyone strike up a conversation.  Even for those adjoining areas - Bakery, Deli, Floral - there are passing acquaintances at best.  And managers float in from time - always pleasant, always ready with a handshake, always ready for a brief conversation -but they, too, have tasks they need to be about.

I have no idea why this is.

Even within ourselves, we are largely isolated.  With two employees we split the work and touch bases on progress, but scarcely work near each other.  Anything beyond a very general "Hi, How is it going?" relationship seems to make things awkward. The Permanents are a little more conversational about such things but even then I often see them at the end of their shift:  they are ready to go home, not spend even more time in conversation at the end of their work day filling some kind of perceived need that I have.

Overall it is not a hindrance: after all, I am being paid to do a job.  But sometimes it can get a little lonely at 2100 in the evening, especially if I am closing on my own and have really had no interaction with anyone . 

It does not bear all the hallmarks of Robinson Crusoe's island, but sometimes feels just as lonely.

The Collapse CXIII: Wondering If And Why

11 June 20XX+1

My Dear Lucilius:

Today I found myself struggling to find the psychic energy to do anything. I did the minimum of chores that needed doing – checking on the garden, checking on the quail, checking on the bees – then I went back inside. I instinctively knew that I should be doing more. I simply lacked the will.

Even I am overcome at times at the extent of the disaster that has befallen us.

Often times I can put it behind me or cover it up with the facade of busy-ness or simply survival (to some extent they are one and the same these days). Yet in the back of my head I hear the clocking ticking down on all that I have here or all that I know is around me. At some point even these things run out.

Barring recovery, of course.

I try not to think about any sense of a recovery at this point. If there was a recovery, what would it actually look like? Much of what we saw of the “economy” had been quietly and practically gutted over the years; the very reason I was no longer working was simply that there was no point in doing so. And to start a recovery, one to have some kind of base. What sort of base do we have now?

And this does not cover things like the Locusts wandering just beyond our vision. Surely this is not the only group that is doing so, and surely they would not welcome a return to the ways things used to be.

My mind runs in the channels until it simply gives up of its own accord.

It is not as if this has never happened before, of course. History clearly explains to us that things fall apart, sometimes very badly. And likely individuals at that time felt similar to how I feel today: Overwhelmed. Lost. At best shaky about what appears to be the task of surviving long enough to reconstruct civilization, at worst thinking merely about survival. The fact that we do not often have the personal thoughts of those that went through such things does not make them any less real.

In my case, fortunately, I was not allowed to stew in my own juices for an excessively long time. By chance – well, let us be honest at this point, not chance at all – Pompeia Paulina came by. She dragged me back outdoors to keep doing the things that needed doing. For added benefit, she made me do them at my place and then made me do them at her place. Idle hands as tools of the devil and all.

But even in my physical exhaustion and focus on making conversation, the same question continues to haunt me as I write this in the gathering darkness, both real and metaphorical: Is there even a way back or out from this, or is this simply the dying embers of a thing that is destined to fail and I am only fooling myself that there is any hope of maintaining anything, not to mention reconstruction?

There are days, Lucilius, that living alone with one’s thoughts can haunt one.

Your Obedient Servant, Seneca

I Cannot Teach Anyone Anything

 

Field Lilies And Cancer

When I started this blog, one commitment that has sort of crystallized over the years is that I try to provide original content (shaky as that may appear sometimes).  There are two reasons for that, the first being that writing regularly is a discipline like any other (and a good one for me), the second that something that vexes me is going to a blog to find a post that sends me somewhere else in order to understand the original post.

That said, occasionally there are posts that merit breaking my commitment.

Friend-Of-This-Blog Becki over at Field Lilies (who keeps a lovely general update of retired life empty-next life in what I would call the Greater Midwest) posted back in late April that she had been diagnosed with cancer (breast cancer specifically).

Cancer is one of those things that in some shape or form impacts most of us in the Western World, be it ourselves, our immediate family, or our friends. It is also one of the hardest things (at least for myself) to ask about:  it is one thing to ask in general if someone is feeling well, or perhaps if there is something one can do, but the actually deeper level of what someone is experiencing often just seems too personal for get into.

Thankfully...courageously (for once, a correct use of the word), Becki has decided to write about it.

She posted over the weekend a post on the actual process of receiving chemotherapy, something that for all of my years I do not think I have ever seen - not the clinical "this is chemo, this is what to expect" but rather the actual sensations and feelings of someone that is going through it.

Her post is here.  I commend it to your attention.

One of the things I continue to believe in for the InterWeb (in spite of my general distrust of most technology) is the fact that it allows us learn, both actual skills as well as experiences that we would not otherwise have the opportunity to participate in unless we went through them ourselves.  As Becki points out (and I hopefully second in relating my experiences with my parents), writing about it and posting it might help someone else down the line that has no idea what they are facing on a personal level.

If you have a prayer or good thought for her and husband as well, I am sure it would not be taken amiss.

Greece 2023: Thessaloniki I

Thessalonica (Thessaloniki in Greek, Saloniki in Turkish) was originally founded by Cassander, one of the Diadochoi, the successor generals of Alexander the Great, in 315 B.C.  It was named after after Thessalonike, his wife and half sister of Alexander the Great.  Situated on the Thermic Gulf, it became an important trade port, eventually exceeding the importance of the Macedonian Capital of Pella as that city's harbor silted in.

The city was, in turn, the most important city in the Macedonian Greek Kingdom, capital of the Roman province of Macedonia under the Roman Republic and then the capital of one of the four Roman Empire provinces of Macedon, the second most important city of the Byzantine Empire, a major city of the Ottoman Empire, and one of the last cities to be incorporated into modern Greece (1912). It also was an early center of Christianity in Europe, with two epistles of Paul being addressed to the Macedonians.  It is currently the second largest city in Greece (Approximately 1,000,000 in population) and is the "anti-Athens" of Greece.

A view of the harbor.  Although we did not see it, Mt. Olympus can be seen on clear days across the Thermic Gulf.

The White Tower.  It stands at the harbor and was a major strongpoint in the walls of the city but was expanded by the Ottoman Turks.  Used as a prison (and torture facility), it was originally known as the Red Tower until 1890, when a convict offered to whitewash the tower in exchange for his freedom.  It took two years and now houses a museum of the history of the city.

Statue of Alexander the Great and his phalangites on the harbor walk.  He remains a popular local son.

The weapons of the phalangite, the sarissa (18' pike) and shield.

His Purposes

 "If we are in communion with God and recognize that He is taking us into His purposes, we shall no longer try to find out what His purposes are.  As we go in the Christian life it gets simpler, because we are less inclined to say - Now why did God allow this and that?  Behind the whole thing lies the compelling of God.  'There's a divinity that shapes our ends.'  A Christian is one who trusts the wits and wisdom of God, and not his own wits.  If we have a purpose of our own, it destroys the simplicity and the leisureliness which ought to characterize the children of God."

- Oswald Chambers, My Utmost For His Highest

Tales From Produce (A)Isle: Talk about Pop Music

 One thing that permeates my time on Produce (A)Isle is music.

Music pervades our shopping environment now.  It is piped into every store.  More and more in outdoor shopping situations, it pervades the atmosphere there as well as one crosses streets and strolls the sidewalks.  We are so used to it being everywhere that we tend to tune it out as we wander in and out of a store - in fact, it is probably more noticeable when it is not there.

One can tune it out with occasional visits.  On Produce (A)Isle, as with all the other stores, it is a constant background.

Presumably like most stores, we subscribe to a music service which pipes in a standard set of song genres, punctuated by store commercials.  I imagine there are several selections; ours when I first started was a modern sort of rock music station for which I knew none of the songs. 

Background music bores its way into your brain.  It is my constant companion as I move from sales floor to walk-in cooler to back room and back out.  Even if you do not like the songs - even if you hate the songs - you find yourself humming along or singing under your breath, often to your own annoyance.  The same is true of the commercial - after 100 times of the same commercial, you begin to find yourself reading along with the speaker (Our store has multiple hiring opportunities, in case you did not know).

The fact that makes the whole thing intolerable is when it is music you do not like.  Even as you pass through the 5 states of musical grief - Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance - you find yourself singing along, and not just at work either.  It fills your brain outside of the job as well, until driving to or from anything because a contest of "find something else to fill the brain with".

Our music changed about two weeks ago to music of the 1980's.  No-one is quite sure how it happened, but word on the street is that a higher up may or may not have made a suggestion based on a customer comment which may or may not have been an actual comment.  Regardless of where the request came from, the music is still there - but I enjoy singing along now and know the words to everything.

And then, when I am humming along blissfully, I shudder.  Christmas is coming.  I wonder how long until that music makes its appearance...

On New Jobs And Schedules: An Update

 How is the new job and schedule going?

Frankly, harder than I had anticipated.

The new job itself is going well.  Nice people, good project, engaging work. Lots and lots of engaging work - in short, lots of forward momentum in my area got cut short when the department essentially all left, so there is a lot to catch up on.  The bright side is that the days really fly now instead of dragging.  I look up once and it is noon; I look up again and it is time to go home.  Plus, they provide snacks.

The contrast between working at a company that has forward momentum and a company that is effectively dead is stunning - you forget that such a difference exists until you change companies.  Suddenly everyone is excited - maybe not always for the best of reasons - and there is a flurry of activity.  One almost forget what anticipation of a success was actually like.

That said, it has added another hour or so to my day due to the commute.  The commute itself is not an issue as it is fairly benign and gets me a chance to catch up on listening to things, but it is time that I used to have.

The balancing act is really with working my other job.

On any given week now I work two to four days there.  During the week, my shifts can be Tuesday, Thursday and Friday from 1700 to 2000.  To hit this time, I have to leave my first job at 1630, drive 15 minutes, change in the car, and work.  I will get home around 2020 or so in the evening, followed by a quick bite, some kind of relaxing, and then to bed.  On Saturdays, my shift will be 1330 to 2000.

What that has all played itself out to is that - in its most busy form - I will be either at work or at Iaijutsu six nights a week.  It always tends to compress my sleep time, which tends to compress my free time.

This has not been an ideal outcome, but it is the outcome that is.

Is the second job helping? It is.  But oddly enough (I say oddly - this was a predictable outcome) there is no desire on my part to spend any of it.  Part of it is what would I spend it on when I am already a bit short on free time; the other is that given the state of things, I am wise not to spend it at all.  

I keep working to parse down what I am doing and spend my time more wisely.  I will say that having this much less free time (ah, those times earlier this year when I thought I was "bored") focuses the mind wonderfully. It also has the very real outcome that less can be done.

The thing I keep reminding myself is that this adjustment would have to made sooner or later.  And I am still miles ahead of people who are under significant financial stress and having to do this sort of thing.

It is hard, in a way, to "go back", pick up, and move forward. I am only a month or so into this adjustment and am trying to be patient with myself as I continue to struggle to adjust.  Better to harden myself now for the future though, rather than to pretend somehow I cannot do this sort of thing.  

Flexibility and the ability to work hard at whatever one does is not a guarantor of success - but it does at least move one in the right direction.

An Engagement

 Today's post on The Collapse has been moved to next week due to...an engagement.

Nighean Bhan's enagement, as it turns out.

I know, I know:  "She has been dating?  You never mentioned such things."

I do not typically.  Things of that nature are typically left to the "going on outside the blog" world - except, of course, when they occasionally reach the point of crossing over into this world.

The situation was that this was the first time we brought her boyfriend (note to self, need to come up with a name) back to The Ranch, both to meet the family (in general) and to see the property, which of course we have been talking about for years.  Nighean Bhan has apparently commented to him for years that it is her favorite place.  After doing the family visits on Friday and Saturday, we had a short break before we started moving things out to The Barn on Sunday.  They went for a walk and he suggested looking for the shiniest piece of quartz they could find.  They started looking and...

They have been dating for four years (legitimately did meet in high school).  He is gainfully employed in his own business  She seems happy and they seem very compatible.

There is no official date for the wedding yet, although I suspect it will be after Nighean Bhan finishes her schooling (which should be two years of so). Plenty of time to enjoy the time now and stress about the wedding later.

I say that.  The Ravishing Mrs. TB is already stressing about the wedding.

Every once in a while, it is nice to have some good news to share.

Everyone Thinks...